


Caught Looking

by sparkandwolf (thatnerdemryn)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Baseball, Baseball Player Derek Hale, Baseball is Really Gay, Crushes, First Kiss, Hand Jobs, Kinda, M/M, More Baseball Puns in Chapter Two, Mutual Masturbation, Puns & Word Play, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Singer Stiles Stilinski, Teasing, Too Many Baseball Puns, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 09:41:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23349340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatnerdemryn/pseuds/sparkandwolf
Summary: Throw the first pitch out at the Mets game, Stiles' manager, Lydia, had said.It’ll be really good for promoting your new single, she said. Stiles tried not to think about the fact that he wasn’t just going to embarrass himself in front of the entirety of Citi Field, but in front of Derek Hale. He had the world’s biggest crush on Derek ever since he was moved up from the minor leagues two years prior. He was six feet and two hundred pounds of pure muscle and he was walking straight for Stiles.Wait.He was walking straight for Stiles.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 58
Kudos: 826





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caught Looking: A term that is used to describe when a batter doesn’t swing the bat and watches the third strike cross the plate. 
> 
> Alternatively, a term that is used to describe Stiles when he sees Derek in his baseball uniform. 
> 
> This is, as always, [Morgan's](https://skylar102.tumblr.com/) fault. Because she linked me to her [Hobrien](https://skylar102.tumblr.com/tagged/hobrien) tag and I came across [THIS VIDEO](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CY8mghoOF_k) and my life was changed forever.

Stiles tossed the glove back and forth between his hands, staring at it like it had offended him. He was a singer, dammit, a nerd who grew up performing theater and attending chorus concerts. He didn’t even know which _hand_ to put the glove on. Well, okay, he did know which hand, but he was panicking. 

_Throw the first pitch out at the Mets game,_ his manager, Lydia, had said. _It’ll be really good for promoting your new single_ , she said. Stiles didn’t give a crap about promoting his new song, not if it meant utter embarrassment in front of the hottest team in the MLB. He glanced out to the field from the corner of the dugout he was hiding out in and watched closely as Isaac Lahey stepped onto the mound and shook out his shoulders. His eyes were hidden by the brim of his cap, his face covered by the glove as he nodded to the catcher. 

God, the catcher, Derek Hale, up and comer in all of the best ways. Stiles tried not to think about the fact that he wasn’t just going to embarrass himself in front of the entirety of Citi Field, but in front of Derek. He had the world’s biggest crush on Derek ever since he was moved up from the minor leagues two years prior. He was six feet and two hundred pounds of pure muscle and he was walking straight for Stiles. 

Wait. 

He was walking straight for Stiles. 

Stiles shoved the glove on his left hand and briefly wondered if he would disappear if he held it over his face. There was a very large part of him that had wanted Derek to notice him, but another much smaller part of him that wanted the concrete floor to swallow him whole because his thoughts of Derek were getting out of hand. Derek walked up to him, a wide smile on his face, one that he wasn’t really known for. He was known to be a bit grumpy and rough around the edges, taking the game more seriously than most of the other players. Stiles understood that as it was the same for him and his music. It was why he was out there in the first place, anyways. 

“Uh, Stiles, right? Stiles, no last name?” Stiles was briefly flustered at the fact Derek knew his name and deeply ashamed of his choice to be one of those one-named singers. He wondered if what he was feeling was something that Cher or Prince felt when meeting people. Stiles realized that he was staring and Derek looked increasingly annoyed and concerned at that. 

“Stiles, yes. Stilinski. That’s my last name,” he volunteered, pointing his thumb behind his back. He wanted to smack himself when he realized Lydia had chosen to just put just ‘Stiles’ on the back of his jersey. 

“Stiles Stilinski,” Derek said and Stiles thought his name had never sounded better. Derek looked like he was trying to figure out who would choose a name like that, but nodded in acceptance either way. Stiles felt his face heat and Derek gave him a very deliberate once over that had Stiles’ mouth going dry. “You’ve never thrown a baseball in your life, have you, kid?” Stiles scoffed at the term, though Derek was absolutely right in his statement, and crossed his arms over his chest. His glove hand hung limply, making it a little more obvious that Stiles was new at the whole baseball thing. 

“Not per se, but I’m a quick study. I was always the first person in my musical theater class to memorize all of my lines,” Stiles said the words proudly and then shook his head in regret. _Sure Stiles,_ he thought, _tell the incredibly hot sports god about your musical theater days, that’ll really get him hot and bothered_. When Stiles looked at Derek, he noticed the small twitch of his lips and felt truly proud of making him smile again. 

“Isaac has to heat his shoulder before he starts. Wanna toss around with me?” 

Stiles figured the only acceptable answer was, “you can toss me around anywhere.” Derek raised an eyebrow at him and they stood in silence for a few long moments before Derek lobbed a baseball in Stiles’ direction. 

“Let’s toss the ball first and see how that goes,” Derek said. He looked Stiles up and down again before walking up the steps of the dugout and headed toward home plate. Stiles wasn’t sure what just happened, but any nerves he felt a few moments prior seemed to wash right out of his system. 

Stiles stepped up to the mound and looked toward Derek who was… a lot farther away than Stiles had anticipated. The distance from pitcher to catcher did not look nearly as long on TV and Stiles gulped and sent a panicked look in Derek’s direction. Derek stood up from where he was crouching and jogged toward Stiles. Stiles wasn’t sure how possible it was that Derek was moving in slow motion, but it very well seemed it. 

“We’ll start here,” Derek commented as he stood about ten feet away. It was a much less intimidating distance and Stiles felt like he could breathe again. He looked down at the ball in his glove before picking it up and holding it in a delicate grip. He wasn’t sure if there was a science behind it, if his fingers were supposed to line up with the seams or if they were supposed to avoid them altogether. He had long fingers, so he didn’t think the latter was even possible. 

He must have spent a bit too much time staring down at the ball because all of a sudden, Derek was beside him. Stiles jumped and dropped the offending object to the ground causing it to roll a few feet in front of him. Derek sighed heavily before walking to retrieve it. If Stiles let his eyes plaster on Derek’s ass in his baseball pants when he bent to pick it up, well, who could really blame him? Derek stood back in front of him, reaching out to grab Stiles’ ungloved hand at the wrist. 

“Have you ever held a ball before?” Stiles raised his eyebrows at Derek with a look that clearly said ‘what do you think’ and Derek closed his eyes like he had to compose himself. Stiles really liked this banter they had going for them. “Have you ever held a _base_ ball before?” Derek clarified as he opened his eyes and stared at Stiles. 

Stiles shook his head. “I mean, I already told you about musical theater class. I feel like that should tell you a lot about me,” Stiles said with a thoughtful look on his face. 

“It tells me that we should probably start at the basics.” Suddenly Derek was behind him, his breath hitting the back of Stiles’ neck and it was unfairly intimate. “Grab the ball,” Derek commanded and Stiles had to do exactly as he told him because of course he did. “Take your index and middle fingers and rest them on the seams, yeah, perfect,” Derek assured as his fingers rested over Stiles’. They were just as long, but a little bit thicker, and _fuck_ , Stiles scolded, _stop thinking about Derek’s fingers_. 

“Alright, got that part, what next?” Stiles asked hurriedly, hoping the next step was for Derek to step away from him so he could breathe again. Instead, Derek wrapped his entire hand around Stiles’ and pulled it back behind Stiles’ head. In that position, Stiles’ back was pressed flush against Derek’s chest and he knew Derek was wearing a cup, but that didn’t make the hard pressure on his ass any less arousing. 

“Make sure your hips are facing our third basemen, over there,” Derek instructed, his hand moving from Stiles’. He was grateful for only a moment because Derek’s hands were only moving to his hips, making sure they were in the right direction. And too suddenly Derek’s leg was in between his, forcing his feet further apart. “Widen your stance. It’ll put more force behind the throw.” Stiles could only nod and blink a few too many times. He let out a shaky breath, trying not to focus on the sheer amount of blood rushing into his shorts. 

“I, uh, can I throw now?” Stiles asked in between a weak exhale and a gulp. Derek chuckled, his chest vibrating against Stiles’ back and his warm breath a whisper next to his ear. 

“You’re gonna pull your arm back a little further,” Derek said, pulling at Stiles’ elbow with one hand, the other still ghosting across his waist. “And you’re gonna wanna twist your hips on release.” Stiles nodded, ignoring the completely unintended innuendo in Derek’s words. Or, he thought it was unintended until Derek’s lips brushed across the shell of his ear and he said, “I have no doubt you know how to use your hips.” 

Derek’s words caused a grunt to leave his lips as he turned his hips like instructed and tossed the ball in the direction of the plate. The batboy shouted in surprise as the ball whizzed past his face with merely a few inches to spare and Stiles covered his face with his glove, joyous laughter bubbling out of him. He turned to Derek who was smirking knowingly at him, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“What are you smiling at? That was pure talent, buddy,” Stiles said as he patted his glove to Derek’s chest. Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles saw the hint of a smile on his lips. He turned back toward home plate and the distance didn’t seem that far anymore. He yelped with Derek’s bare hand smacked at his ass, gripping the cheek a little longer than decent before he jogged back to the plate. He turned about halfway down the field and walked backward, winking at Stiles. 

“Now do that again for the cameras and you’ll have the number one song by morning,” Derek shouted as he lined up with the rest of his team. Stiles shuffled back to the dugout and rolled his eyes when he saw Lydia standing at the gate, hands on her hips, and a knowing smile on her lips. 

“Forgive me yet?” Lydia asked smugly. Stiles leaned his shoulder to hers and stared over in Derek’s direction. He had his back to them, his hands laced together in front of him so Stiles had an unobstructed view of his ass. The National Anthem began to play, but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to look at the flag, only Derek and how delicious he looked in his uniform. Stiles licked his lips in barely contained hunger just as Derek turned and shot a wink in his direction. He heard his own name called over the speakers and he thought he should have felt nervous, but instead he felt ready. Derek met him at the first base line as he walked out, baseball in hand and that beautiful smirk on his face. 

“You throw a strike and I’ll show you what other kind of tossing around I can do,” Derek promised as he placed the ball firmly in Stiles’ hand. Stiles grinned at Derek as they jogged to their respective spots, Stiles’ confidence growing with every step. Stiles placed his glove over his face, lining his fingers on the seam of the ball, and his heart beating steadily in his chest. Thinking about Derek’s hands on his hips and his breath on his ear, he reared back and threw. He realized that the pitch was possibly the straightest thing about him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is absolutely going to have a chapter two of pure post-game sexual fuckery. And, knowing myself the way that I do, this may turn into a series about Singer!Stiles and Catcher!Derek, so be on the lookout if that's your thing.
> 
> I sincerely hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Please, please, please let me know your thought in the comments and leave kudos if you enjoyed it!


	2. Perfect Pitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles raced down the steps with Lydia hot on his tail and when he got to the railing, he leaped over and ran toward Derek, jumping into his arms excitedly. It could have been perceived as a friendly hug between one pride-filled player who just hit in the winning runs and one ecstatic Mets fan, but Stiles had known better if the way Derek’s arms squeezed around his waist had anything to say about it. 
> 
> His thoughts were definitely confirmed as Derek whispered, “It takes 15 minutes for everyone to clear out of the locker room after a win. Meet me there in 20.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> On top of being the long awaited and much requested second chapter to this story, this is also written for Kinktober Day #23 with the prompt of _Shower Sex_. 
> 
> I hope it was worth the wait!

There was not much Stiles loved more than watching a baseball game with a too-large, cold cup of soda and a bag of stadium popcorn. He sat behind the Mets dugout with his feet propped up against the railing in front of him, yelling some absurdities at the ump with a dopey smile on his face. 

“Call it for both teams like a good ally! What the hell kind of strike zone is that?!” Stiles yelled as he tossed a handful of popcorn on top of the dugout causing Lydia to smack his arm and send him a pleading. Stiles thought his actions were called for, more so by the smirk Derek sent in his direction from his spot at home plate.

“As your publicist, I need you to stop tarnishing your image,” Lydia said sternly when Stiles tore his eyes away from the field. 

“And as my friend?” Stiles said hopefully, tossing a piece of popcorn into her hair with a laugh. She grabbed it furiously and threw it back at him, hitting him straight in the cheek, only excelling his laughter. He went to scoop another handful, but her motions were quicker as she grabbed the offending bag from him with a huff. Stiles looked at her full of faux shock, his mouth gaping open. 

“As your friend, I need you to stop being such an idiot,” she finished, tossing back a few pieces of his snack smugly. Stiles grumbled and crossed his arms over his chest before focusing back on the game. Derek was at bat, two strikes against him with two men on base. The Mets were down by two at the bottom of the ninth and Stiles could feel the tension rising in the crowd. Unfortunately, Derek wasn’t known for his batting average. It wasn’t bad, by any means, but with the pressure they were under, it would’ve been preferable to have Boyd at the plate. Stiles chewed on his thumb, leaning forward to watching as the pitcher stepped back after an affirmative nod. 

Derek had a strict process for when it was his turn at the plate; the pitch would come in, the ump would call it, Derek would step back with one foot in the box (as per the new and utterly stupid rules) and look for direction from the third base coach. Then, he would watch as the pitcher debated his next throw, eyes unmoving from him until the next pitch came in. His eyes were on the coach or the pitcher at all times no matter what else was going on around him and he  _ never _ broke from that. 

Derek had stepped out, glanced at the third base coach who had no direction, and watched the pitcher as he stepped back in and rested the bat against his broad shoulder. That time, though, his eyes wandered over to Stiles, eyeing him with every bit of intensity he had in him. Stiles stared back at him, hoping his shock wasn’t too obvious on his face, and sent him a wink. He hoped it said, “win this game and you’re fucking me in the locker room.” 

It must have said  _ something _ , because as the pitch came in, slower than Stiles had expected, Derek waited on his back foot. He leaned that extra half a second and slammed it with the barrel of his bat. It flew over the heads of everyone on the green, narrowly missing the left field foul pole, and floated into the stands. The ump raised his arms to signify the fair ball and before Stiles could stop himself, he launched from his seat. He cupped his hands over his mouth and hollered before tugging Lydia up and into a frantic hug as they celebrated together. 

The music blasted through the speakers as Derek rounded third, his teammates gathered around the plate to await that final step. Derek jumped up and landed on the plate and the crowd roared like thunder. Stiles felt like he was vibrating with the energy on the field alone and then Derek  _ looked _ at him. He threw off his helmet and winked in Stiles’ direction before nodding his head toward the dugout gate. 

Stiles raced down the steps with Lydia hot on his tail and when he got to the railing, he leaped over and ran toward Derek, jumping into his arms excitedly. It could have been perceived as a friendly hug between one pride-filled player who just hit in the winning runs and one ecstatic Mets fan, but Stiles had known better if the way Derek’s arms squeezed around his waist had anything to say about it. 

His thoughts were definitely confirmed as Derek whispered, “It takes 15 minutes for everyone to clear out of the locker room after a win. Meet me there in 20.”

Before Stiles could answer, Derek was pulled away by a reporter hoping for his first game-winning interview, and Stiles was redirected by Lydia for his own bit of press. The minute Stiles lost sight of the rest of the team in the locker room, he was counting down, glancing at the outfield clock every few seconds. Twenty minutes seemed to drag on as everyone cleared the stadium and the only people left were Stiles, Lydia, some press, and the field maintainers. 

“You ready to go?” Lydia asked after she shook the final hand of the night. Stiles raised an eyebrow at her and couldn’t stop his gaze from wandering to the door leading into the locker rooms behind the dugout. Lydia sighed heavily and rolled her head back, clicking her tongue disappointingly in the process. She righted her head and tilted her head at Stiles, pursing her lips in thought. 

“Is there anything I can say to  _ stop _ you from fucking the hot catcher in a semi-public place, risking the perfectly crafted image I have created for you?” Lydia asked, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Stiles bit down on his lip and gazed over her shoulder with a nod, pretending to consider her words. 

He didn’t have to think long before he decided, “Absolutely nothing.” Stiles jumped as the timer on his phone sounded and the spike of anticipation that raced down his spine was almost overwhelming. He sent a pleading look toward Lydia who just waved her hand at him and started up the steps of the stadium. 

“You have an 8am interview with the local radio station. Be back at the hotel by 7:30,” Lydia demanded and Stiles nodded noncommittally as he made his way to the dugout. “I mean it, Stiles! 7:30!” Lydia shouted after him and Stiles opted to ignore her words in favor of darting to the door he had seen Derek and the rest of the team disappear through. He weaved his way through the maze of underground tunnels until he heard the slam of a locker and a bit of chatter. He tried to hide behind a wall, but Isaac and Boyd rounded the corner with knowing smirks on both of their faces when they caught sight of Stiles. 

“Stiles, right? Nice first pitch. Gonna give the newbie here a run for his money,” Boyd teased as he jabbed his elbow into Isaac’s ribs. Isaac glared at him but there was no heat in it as he rolled his eyes. 

Isaac sent a wave toward the locker room and said, “We’ve got a 9am warmup.” Stiles sputtered out an ‘okay’ when he realized the words were directed at him and a blush covered his cheeks.  _ So much for being stealthy,  _ he thought to himself as he wandered into the locker room. He wasn’t quite sure where the sudden onslaught of nervousness was coming from, but he figured it had to do with the intimidatingly good looking man that appeared in front of him. Derek was shirtless with only a towel around his waist and his face was still smudged with dirt from the game. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I must have come too quickly,” Stiles said quickly, turning to face the lockers as if he had walked in on a private moment. 

“Not yet, you haven’t,” Derek countered as he reached for Stiles’ hand to turn him back around. Derek had a teasing smirk on his face and his toned abs were just  _ right there _ and from that moment on, Stiles wasn’t positive he had any control over his actions. He surged toward Derek and connected their lips in a fiery kiss, the sheer force of it enough to knock Derek into the tiled half wall behind him. It was a mess of teeth and tongues as if they were putting all of the energy they had pent up from their earlier flirtation into one simple kiss. Derek’s mind seemed to catch up to Stiles’ actions as his hands gripped at Stiles’ waist to tug him closer. Stiles rutted his hips and he could have sworn Derek growled into the kiss. 

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” Derek muttered as he tore his mouth away from the kiss. Stiles felt like he couldn’t stop; like he needed the taste of Derek on his lips to survive. His lips trailed down Derek’s now exposed neck, uncaring for the salt and dirt that his taste buds argued against before his hand ran down his chest and landed at the edge of the towel. The feeling of the fabric was enough to knock into Stiles that he had just  _ attacked _ Derek before he even had a chance to shower off the adrenalin of the game. Embarrassment washed through him rapidly and when he tried to back away - to apologize and run out of the room like the coward he was - Derek’s fingers squeezed his hips to keep him in place. 

“I don’t know why-- I just--  _ Look _ at you and--” Stiles had known he was a stuttering mess as he repeated the same phrases over and over again, but he couldn’t stop as his eyes trailed down the slightly dusty chest in front of him. 

“Yeah?” Derek said with a gulp, his throat bobbing as Stiles pressed his palms against the hard plains of Derek’s chest and abs before letting his hands rest on Derek’s broad shoulders. 

“I thought your Sports Illustrated cover was photoshopped.” Stiles wasn’t sure why he decided  _ that _ was the safest thing to say and he shook his head in shame as he glanced back up at Derek. The amused smirk on Derek’s face had him blushing a little deeper as he slid a hand behind Derek’s neck to thread his fingers in his signature dark hair. “They can’t photoshop that trademark Derek Hale smirk, though,” Stiles commented and he felt his stomach jump when the smirk turned into a full grin, teeth and all. Derek had an incredible smile which really shouldn’t have surprised Stiles as everything about him was beautiful, but the sight had Stiles suddenly self-conscious. 

“You’re kind of adorable,” Derek noted with a tilt of his head. Any insecurities that Stiles might have had washed away as Derek leaned back against the wall behind him and let his eyes wander over Stiles’ body. Stiles was all too aware of the way his shirt had started sticking to his skin with sweat and how his pants were too tight against his thighs. “That’s not exactly what I would choose to wear to a baseball game,” Derek commented as he grabbed the material of Stiles’ shirt and tugged at it playfully. 

“I don’t exactly have a choice when it comes to promotional events, now do I?” Stiles said as he actively ignored the hardness growing in his jeans. He cursed Lydia for her choice of attire as he grew uncomfortably against Derek. 

“I still have to shower,” Derek mentioned as he cocked his head behind him to where cleanliness awaited him and Stiles huffed out a laugh before dropping his hands back to his sides. 

“Yeah, you should do that. I can, uh, wait over--” Before Stiles could turn, Derek slid a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him into another kiss. Their lips moved together slowly until Derek pulled Stiles’ bottom lip into his mouth with his teeth, suckling softly as the fingers of his free hand played with the bottom of Stiles’ shirt. 

“Or,” Derek started as he brushed his thumb across Stiles’ happy trail slowly, “you can join me.” That was an offer that Stiles would have been a fool to refuse. He nodded slowly, his eyes floating open as he licked his lips to savor the taste of Derek on his tongue. Derek ushered him into one of the more private stalls in the back of the locker room before gripping the bottom of Stiles’ shirt and pulling it over his head, tossing it into the stall next to them. 

Stiles pouted at him and pointed out, “I don’t have any other clothes to wear out of here.” Derek shrugged as his lips attached to Stiles’ newly exposed shoulder. He placed a spattering of kisses on the freckled skin, licking a line across his collarbone before moving back to his lips. Stiles hummed into the kiss and promptly forgot about everything that wasn’t Derek’s warm hands on his skin. 

“I have plenty of spare clothes in here,” Derek murmured against Stiles’ lips as Stiles craned his neck to deepen the kiss just a little more. Derek pressed him against the wall with an expert roll of his hips before he pulled away just enough to unbutton Stiles’ jeans and tug down his zipper in one fluid motion. 

“ _ God, _ you’re good at this,” Stiles whispered as Derek helped him out of his jeans and boxers before removing the towel that was still wrapped around his waist. He shrugged and traced his fingers down Stiles’ chest and stomach, stopping just before he reached the base of Stiles’ rapidly hardening cock. A whine escaped Stiles’ mouth before he could stop it and Derek smirked up at him as he reached into the shower to turn on the water before moving them away from the cold trickle. 

“Practice makes perfect,” Derek said as he adjusted the temperature. “Not all of us can throw a strike the first time they touch a baseball,” he teased, sending Stiles a wink. Stiles thought he would have swooned if he wasn’t standing with his naked back pressed against the frigid wall behind him. 

“You’ve got a lot of practice taking off your teammate’s clothes before showering, Hale?” Stiles countered as Derek tugged him underneath the rapidly warming water. 

Derek shook his head and responded, “Nope, just up and coming celebrities who shamelessly flirt with me before throwing the first pitch on my home turf.” Stiles let out a laugh as Derek leaned his head back into the water, trails of sandy liquid drifting down his shoulders. Stiles wasn’t sure how Derek could make something so simple look so hot but opted to ignore it in favor of reaching for the shampoo resting on the barrier between them and the next shower stall. 

“Lean your head back,” Stiles ordered as he squirted the shampoo in his hands. At Derek’s raised eyebrows, Stiles scoffed and said, “As obvious as it is that I want to have sex with you, you just played - and hit the winning home run - at a baseball game and deserve to be a little pampered.” 

Derek complied but Stiles saw the surprise in his eyes before he leaned his head back. He cheered for himself just a little at the fact he could cause any form of shock in Derek before he focused on spreading the shampoo into Derek’s hair. His nails scratched at Derek’s scalp as he massaged his head and Stiles felt himself hardening at the soft moans he received in response. He pushed closer to Derek to better reach the back of his head and when their cocks brushed, both of them let out breathless gasps. 

Derek reached up and wrapped his fingers around Stiles’ wrists before his own hands scrubbed at his hair to let the water wash away the bubbles. Stiles took the opportunity to spread the body wash beside them on his hands and run his fingers over every inch of Derek’s skin that he could reach. He lathered up Derek’s broad shoulders and chest before grazing each muscle on his stomach with gentle touches. He found himself lost in the way Derek’s skin felt against his fingertips and how with each stroke, his cock would grow closer and closer to sliding against Stiles’ again. 

“My turn,” Derek whispered, breaking Stiles from his focus as he gazed up at Derek. Water dripped down his face and trailed down the length of his long neck and Stiles couldn’t resist the urge to lean forward and trace the track with his tongue. Derek’s arm wrapped around Stiles’ waist and pulled them flush together, their cocks sliding more easily due to the soap Derek was covered in. Stiles nipped at Derek’s pulse before sucking as rapidly as his heart was beating. Derek’s slick hands scrubbed at his back and Stiles let out a moan against Derek’s shoulder as his nails scraped down the skin of Stiles’ back. 

They rolled their hips together, neither of them caring about finesse any more than they cared about actually getting clean. Derek’s hands gripped at Stiles’ ass, kneading the soft skin there as he maneuvered Stiles’ hips more solidly against his. Their bodies slid together perfectly and Stiles had never wanted a hand on his cock more than he had at that moment. Derek seemed to read his mind as one of his soapy hands reached down in between them, his long fingers wrapping around both of their lengths. Twin moans left their lips as Derek pumped their cocks hastily using the slickness to their advantage. 

Stiles wrapped his arms desperately around Derek’s shoulders as Derek mouthed at his exposed neck. He threaded one hand through Derek’s soaked hair to pull him closer, gasping into his ear as Derek twisted his wrist as if to ensure he was touching every inch of Stiles’ and his own cock that he could. Stiles tugged at Derek’s hair to pull his head back because he had wanted to see his face and to kiss him again. He let himself witness Derek’s blown pupils and the way he bit down on his bottom lip as if holding in his moans but decided his mouth would be of better use on his. 

“Fuck, let me hear you,” Stiles begged, “please!” With a shout, he bit down on Derek’s bottom lip and pulled it into his mouth so he had no choice but to whimper against Stiles’ lips. Stiles wrapped his hand around Derek’s to apply just a little more pressure on their aching cocks and Derek’s immediate moan was like music to his ears. 

Their hands stroked hurriedly as their hips slotted together as if both searching for a release that only the other could give them, and Stiles felt his stomach tightening each time Derek’s palm slid over his dick. He climbed higher in pleasure, closer to his orgasm, and his skin was too scorched to notice that the water splashing onto them was slowly cooling. Stiles’ tongue battled Derek’s sloppily, neither of them able to focus on the kiss as they let themselves be washed in the bliss that surged through them. 

Stiles flew over the edge first with a broken moan that echoed through the empty locker room as he pulled away from Derek’s mouth to bite down onto his shoulder like a lame attempt to control the pleasure that soared through him. He whimpered and panted into Derek’s wet skin as his legs shook, his hips still pushing into Derek’s hand as if chasing the cloud of ecstasy that surrounded him. 

Derek moaned against his ear and Stiles could tell he was close just by the husky breaths that expelled from his lungs. He reached between them with a trembling hand and pushed Derek’s hand away only to replace it with his own. He pumped Derek’s cock expertly, thumbing across the throbbing head before pressing a solid finger against the vein underneath his length. A long and low groan pushed from Derek’s lips as Stiles felt him release over his hand and stomach. Stiles maneuvered his face away from the water as he leaned his head back in pleasure. 

The now lukewarm water spouting from the showerhead washed away their mess as they clung together, Stiles’ fingers stayed threaded in Derek’s hair as Derek’s gripped the skin of Stiles’ back tightly, holding him as close as they could possibly be. They stayed under the spray as the rest of the soap dripped away from their skin and Stiles reached up to brush Derek’s dampened hair from his forehead with a chuckle. Derek returned the laughter and ran his own hands through Stiles’ hair to slick it away from his face. He was sure he looked just as fucked as Derek had, but he let himself stare at Derek for a few moments before he looked down at their naked bodies in thought. 

“You know, I really wish I had the opportunity to toss in a pitcher or catcher joke during that,” Stiles breathed out as his chest rose and fell with Derek’s. 

He felt Derek’s laughter before he heard it and Derek pressed a gentle kiss on his forehead before saying, “Did you know I’m a switch hitter?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I leave you with this: Why are singers good at baseball? _Because they have perfect pitch!_
> 
> *crickets*
> 
> Please feel free to follow my [Sterek Tumblr](https://sparkandwolf.tumblr.com) for updates on my WIP, snippets, and other A+ content. I also have a [Twitter](https://twitter.com/thatnerdemilyj).
> 
> Kudos make me smile and comments make me weep, so please leave them!


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